


Surrender

by Blaze22



Series: BATIM Shorts [3]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Can be seen as Allison/Tom, F/M, Gen, but wasn't written with the ship in mind, rated teen because a little gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-27 08:46:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18735622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blaze22/pseuds/Blaze22
Summary: Allison and Tom, the fallen studio’s dynamic duo, are known to stick with one another throughout the day-to-day trials they face. This story tells the tale of Tom falling extremely ill after losing his arm, which results in sending Allison into a spiral of panic, all alone, except for her single, remaining companion: hope.





	Surrender

Calm. 

She had to be calm. 

Except that was _extremely_ difficult to do when ink gushed from where Tom’s elbow had been. Bile rose in Allison’s throat, and she pressed her hand to her mouth to stop herself from gagging. They were pressed against the walls of a claustrophobic Little Miracle Station, the sound of a whirring projector fading away. Her breath shaky, the angel bent down and hurriedly ripped cloth from her dress. She continued to do so until she had a considerable amount of fabric bunched in her fist(all the while ignoring the fact that her dress now rode up high on her thighs), and she wrapped it around Tom’s injury. 

They had been mapping out one of the lower levels when they rounded a corner and were met with the Projectionist. Tom was the closest to him, and his arm had been snatched a hold of and torn from his body before they could escape. Allison had battled the monster away with her katana and the pair fled for the nearest Little Miracle Station, but they didn’t leave unscathed. Now, the Projectionist left and took half of the wolf’s arm as his prize.

“It’s going to be okay,” she whispered. She pressed harder on the tender wound that gaped raw muscles and bone, feeling his body fluid soak the cloth through her fingertips.

Though she was terrified to do so, Allison finally cast a glance to Tom. His pie-cut eyes were tightly squeezed shut, and breathy pants dripped from his muzzle. The back of his head pressed against the wall, and his knees began to buckle, no longer wanting to support his weight. 

She swallowed thickly. “We - we need to get back to the safehouse. Can you walk?” A small portion of her heart screamed from saying that. She hated the idea of him using up the little energy he had, but lingering in the cramped station just to stay out of danger for such a long period of time was equally bad. 

Nothing. His chest rose and fell in a quick tempo. 

Allison’s full lips thinly pressed together. “Tom, answer me!” She flinched at her harsh tone. “Nod if you can get back, please. I promise I’ll help you there. I’m right here. Just nod.”

A small nod. 

She sighed in quiet relief. Tying a knot on the makeshift bandage, she wrapped his right -- and only -- arm over her shoulders and elbowed the door open. They stumbled out, and Allison bit back a yelp as her feet made contact with a ground slippery with Tom’s ink. 

She forced herself to not look down, checked both ways, and continued to move. 

Each moment, each pained step that they took felt like an eternity. Allison frequently whispered encouragements to keep going in his drooping ear.

Once they finally made it back to their safehouse, Tom was led and collapsed on his cot located beside the fish tank. Allison made quick work of taking the hurried bandage off of his wound, grimacing as her nimble fingers pulled away gore ridden cotton. 

His eyes finally fluttered open, and he looked at her, weakness seeping through his gaze. His breathing had become even more shallow at the effort. 

“I know,” she soothed and brushed her free hand over the space between his ears. “I know.”

“I’m going to patch you up, and you’re going to be as good as new!” she continued brightly. Allison reached for the padded, white cloth she had brought to his side and began to bandage the lump. It continued to drip ink, but she ignored the black, sticky liquid slicking her fingers and tied a tight knot. 

Tom’s eyes slipped shut. Allison inhaled and softly rubbed one of his ears between her fingers. “Get some rest, Tom.”

She pulled a wooden chair up to his side, and approximately half an hour later Tom’s eyes snapped open.

Then he looked at his left arm. Or, where it _should_ have been. He began to attempt and struggle to sit up. 

Allison couldn’t swallow away the lump in her throat that time. “Tom,” she said, shaking her head. She stood up and gently pushed down on his shoulders. “No.” Tears began to escape, dripping to tease her upper lip. He defiantly stared up at her, sweat beading at the top of his scrunched forehead. 

“Remember? The Projectionist caught us.”

_Caught you._

She grimaced. She should have let him recall the traumatic event on his own time, once he was healed, but perhaps bluntness would convince him to lie still. 

“There’s nothing you can do. I bandaged it, but you lost a lot of ink.” Allison frowned as he began to squirm beneath her grip. The Tom before the accident would’ve been able to throw her across the room if he’d wanted to(though she’d thankfully never given him a reason to). After a tense, horrible moment, he relaxed under her fingers. Allison backed away and sat heavily on the chair. 

She watched as Tom reached with his right hand to pat the empty space on the left side of the cot. With a shudder of her shoulders, she buried her head in her hands. 

Moments later, when she looked up, his head was slumped on the pillow. He had fallen into a restless sleep again, evident by the quick rise and fall of his chest and the twitching of his legs. 

Many uncounted minutes passed, with Allison stiffly perched by his side through each one. He groggily awoke once during the night(in their little world, ‘night’ was marked by the awakening and movement of the fish in the tank), and she spooned bacon soup and water into his numb lips. It dribbled into a terrible mess as he weakly swallowed, but the fact that he consumed several mouthfuls of it made her smile in relief. Then his head sunk down again. 

She wrung her hands together, stared at the wall that bore her distracted ink paintings, and hummed to herself - all while her mind was on Tom. No injury this extreme had ever happened to either of them before, and it was twisting her insides into a wicked pretzel. 

Allison occasionally stood and checked his pulse by pressing her fingers to his neck. It was present - though it was quite rapid. 

Hours later, she found her chin dropping to her chest. Her ponytail jerked as she roused herself, but it only succeeded in occurring again. Finally, her eyelids drooped down and blocked out the sepia tones, leaving her to watch the dreamy shadows dance behind her eyelids. 

With a start, Allison jolted awake. She blearily looked around, her hand groping for the katana sheathed at her side. Her sight cleared, and her hands rose to sleepily rub her fuzzy eyes. She winced as she took note of the stiff pain in her neck and rear - the effects of sleeping in a hard chair. A series of small cracks sounded as her neck tilted to one side, then another. The fish were settled at the bottom of the small aquarium, signalling daytime. Then she saw Tom, remembered the day before, and clumsily rose to her feet to look at him. 

A crusty grey stained the white gauze wrapped around the stump of his arm. She couldn’t tell if the bandage was fully saturated, although it still needed to be changed so it wouldn’t become infected - though she suspected that there was a high chance it would be, anyways. But she was terrified of rebandaging it in fear of reopening the wound and more blood coming out in response. 

Her thoughts broke, and her breath hitched when she took a hold of his limp, gloved hand. She felt his forearm. It was cool and clammy to touch, and perspiration still shone on his forehead. She felt it with the back of her hand, and it burned at the touch. Finally, his breathing seemed to have become shallower. 

“Tom?” she asked, a voice crack resonating in the room. She tried again. “Tom? Buddy, can you hear me?”

No response. 

Pulse quickening, Allison tried again and reached to lightly shake his shoulders. “Tom, wake up. You need to get up. Open your eyes. Something?” 

Still, nothing. 

She backed away a step and covered her mouth with her hands, shaking her head frantically. He had been asleep for far too long. Sure, he could have woken up while she was asleep, but he wasn’t _responding_ to her. Plus, he was usually a light sleeper. The cause of his unconsciousness had to be the blood loss. 

Allison turned and took a step and turned again. What was she supposed to do? He was unresponsive, so how could he eat? What if he didn’t wake up?

She began to pace. 

_Think. What would Tom do?_

He always had a level head on his shoulders when a problem arose, as did she. But now, with his life possibly slipping further and further away by the moment, like a rope preparing to snap, she had never felt so lost. Confused. Hopeless. 

Allison forced her steps to slow and her feet to take her to her chair. “Tom, I’m pretty sure you can hear me,” she began. “And I’m right here. And everything’s going to be all right. Okay?” 

She reached up and fiddled with her ponytail, her long fingers combing through the silky strands. “I really miss you already. I know I’ve joked with you that if a cardboard cutout of you walked around with me, then it wouldn’t be any different.” She sniffed through a weak smile. “Now I know it wouldn’t be. But it’s okay, because I know you’re going to wake up and shake your head at me to say I’m silly.” She wiped at her cheek.

Allison spent the remainder of the day by Tom’s side. As evening fell, and the fish began to surface and swim about, she began to read from a book. It was one of his favorites.

(Or so she believed. She loved to read the few books they had out loud to him in their spare time, though they didn’t make much sense. He always acted grouchy about the activity, but she had caught him several times thumbing through the one she currently held on his own, or dreamily staring at her while she read.)

Finished with the second chapter, she set the book down and picked up the Boris plush resting beside the leg of her chair. She watched it for a long moment, then hugged it to her chest. 

“Hey, if you wake up in the morning, I promise I’ll read you the third chapter.” She paused, and her voice began to waver as she set the stuffed toy down in her lap. “I take that back. I’ll read the _whole_ book for you.” 

She dragged a hand over her face and leaned back in the chair with a sigh. She eventually got up and headed to her cot, twisting to lay on her side so she could face him. However much she wanted to sit by his side all night, it wouldn’t do her any good to wear herself out, and she didn’t think that Tom would appreciate it either. Sleep’s talons took a long time to grasp her, but when they did, she sunk into them wearily. 

Morning rose, and Tom was the same - breathing, yet still unconscious. Allison took it upon herself to leave the safehouse. She felt she was in search of an item for him, but she didn’t know what. 

She came back with a small radio. 

It had taken a bit of effort, but she achieved the small box nonetheless. 

Allison set it on the ledge above him. “Hi, Tom. I found this out there. And don’t worry, I was safe  out on my own.” She chuckled softly. “I think you’ll like it.”

She sat on the edge of the chair and dug her elbow into her thigh, resting her chin on her fist. 

“Do you remember dancing?” she asked softly. “Maybe we can dance to something on this.” Dancing was one of those ghostlike things from their previous existence that would flit by in her mind, and she hardly got a grasp on it as it passed. She would usually paint the concept on the wall, but now standing and looking at the scrawls she had drawn, she was uncertain of how to capture it. She retrieved her brush and paint can. 

What bled from the ink to the bristles to the wall was a miniature version of her and Tom holding hands. 

She read the third chapter of the book that evening. 

The third day came. And he was still asleep. Allison remained by his side for the morning, then exited the safehouse. This time, she set a mechanical arm at the bottom of his cot. 

“Hey, Tom,” she said. “I got you something better today. It’s an arm.” She looked away from his unmoving figure, her black smudges blurring on the wall. “I found it from that animatronic in the amusement park. And since you’re so good at fixing things, I figured when you wake up, we could fix-” She stopped. 

The ever-present lump grew bigger. Tears carved down her oval-shaped face, creating their own little streams. With a small cry, she hunched over his body. Salty droplets landed on his overalls, staining them with her misery. 

Hardly able to bear it, she walked away and picked up the brush soaking in the ink. Hands shaking, she reached up high and began to move her arm in wide strokes. 

She stepped back to observe her work. 

It read **HOPE**. 

The angel wiped at her cheeks with the inside of her wrists and glanced at Tom. She believed in hope. She always had. 

“And I’m not giving you up now.”

With a slump of her shoulders, she found herself stepping forward and resting her forehead on the ink-stained wall. 

_I know you’re here._

An aching blossomed and splintered her heart as her mind breathed a prayer. Allison squeezed her eyes shut. For as long as she had been in this broken studio, she had always felt a presence with her, enveloping her in a warm embrace. 

She knew that someone, a higher power, _the_ highest power, was present. She knew He loved her more than she could ever deserve or comprehend, even before she was trapped in the studio. And she loved Him. 

And He was not the Ink Demon, nor the being that had trapped her and the other unfortunate souls here. 

She couldn’t piece everything together, including who He exactly was, but His peaceful and powerful companionship was comforting. It had kept her sane and confident, even in the difficult times.

_And I need you now. I always have._

_Tom especially needs you. Please, I’m begging you, don’t let him go. When I asked for a companion, you answered and he came along - eventually._ Please _let him live, give him your life and hope._

Too drained to form any more coherent thoughts, Allison fell to her knees. 

And she sobbed. 

She lifted her hands up in surrender until her arms could no longer, cried till her heart held no more tears.

The sleepless night was spent curled on the hard floor.

An exhausted dark was shaded beneath her soft, blurred eyes when morning came. Allison rose and repeated the routine she had created.

After reading another chapter from the book, she left and came back. 

This time, she returned with a bone.

Allison carefully placed the bone beside the two other items and straightened up. No words were spoken, but a fond smile painted her lips as she recalled the teasing she did in the past about Tom’s love of bones. When she discovered one on one of their trips, the want and pursuit of a getting it had almost been enough to drive him to his knees. As she dangled the bone above his head and was chased, a delightful ache had bloomed in her side from laughing so hard. 

Muscles weary, the angel fell asleep earlier that day, watching his still form.

There was a rustle. 

Allison jolted up. 

He was sitting up. 

Across from her, Tom was sitting up, eyes open and blinking slowly. 

Her jaw dropped open, and she covered her mouth with her hand. 

She swung her legs over the side of the cot and sprinted the two feet distance, then flung her arms around his neck. 

“Tom!” It was all she could muster before she began to cry - this time, from tears of joy. Allison buried her face into his neck, and she felt his arm wrap around her back in return of her embrace. She breathed his scent in deeply, only to quickly pull away in realization. 

“I-I’m sorry. That probably hurt.” She grinned stupidly behind the veil of bangs and tears, hardly caring that her words were a blubbering mess. Instead, she reached out and tightly grasped Tom’s hand and met his glassy-eyed gaze. 

“I told you it would be all right. And it is.” 

Allison threaded her fingers between his and squeezed, rubbing her thumb back and forth against his glove. Even though they now faced many obstacles, she didn't care. All that mattered was that He was with them, and they would get through it together, and everything would be okay. 

As joy coursed through her whole being, a name sprung up from the wells of her heart. 

_Thank you so, so much, Lord._

**Author's Note:**

> If you're offended at all of how I portrayed Allison, I understand. I just ask you don't try to create any unnecessary drama, because creating drama isn't the reason why I wrote this. And if you have any questions about why or what she was thinking about near the end, I'm always open to questions. ^^
> 
> If you enjoyed, kudos are appreciated, though not required! Thanks a bunch for reading, and have a fantastic day!


End file.
